Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [182]
“Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t want to hold Allen’s hand. It was a way to keep busy and I guess…to document the trip.”
As I looked at the crumpled paper bag with dates and notes scribbled across it, something grew instantly clear to me. Just hours earlier, I had been asked to read my journal aloud to the jury. Despite the panic and uncertainty of the night I had written those two entries, I had been a mostly stable adolescent up to that point. The loopy cursive writing that had stretched across those butterfly-bordered pages was typical of a teenage girl—whimsical to a point, but still controlled and neat. The handwriting on this paper bag barely resembled my own. It was unruly, distracted, panicked. I could see the progression of my emotional breakdown evidenced in this simple contrast of the letters.
I described how when we got back to the hotel each night Allen kept touching me in a sexual way and refused to stop. I went on to detail the first time he exposed his genitals to me, that terrifying night in the park. “He told me that this is what we were supposed to do. ‘Don’t you want to have babies?’ he asked, and I replied, ‘Not with you.’”
Noon recess was a much-needed relief and a chance to gather my thoughts. I picked at my food idly as my mind catapulted back to those awful first days of my marriage to Allen.
The cross-examination began right after lunch and proved even more upsetting for me. At least the prosecution was on my side; Tara Isaacson was trying to paint me as a liar and a drama queen. She walked directly toward me, her face stony. The other witnesses would be questioned by only a male defense attorney, Wally Bugden, but Tara Isaacson would question me. They didn’t want to make it seem like a male was badgering me for answers, so they used her to make it appear gentler on me. But I knew better. Her fierce, cutting demeanor and icy tone made her more intimidating than any male lawyer could ever be. Somehow the fact that we were both women and she was defending the man who had facilitated my rape made it difficult for her to look into my eyes. She was a classic bully, through and through, and it took everything in me to keep my anger in check.
I knew that her tactic would be to establish a rhythm with her questioning so she could trick me into responding in a way I would later regret. As we proceeded, I went over in my head the preparation I had done with the legal team. I had to remember to think carefully before responding to any question, so that I wouldn’t fall into any traps. Furthermore, I had to make sure I truly understood each question before giving an answer. As she dug into every aspect of my story, I kept my responses as short and to the point as possible. I wanted to move through my testimony with clarity and efficiency.
“Did you ever specifically tell Warren Jeffs about your sexual relationship with Allen Steed?” Isaacson posed.
There was a heavy silence in the room as I contemplated how to answer. In this woman’s understanding, of course, I hadn’t specifically said anything, because I hadn’t ever used the words “I’m being raped.” But I knew in my heart that I had made the sexual abuse Allen inflicted upon me explicitly clear to Warren using the best language I could access. “Yes,” I said.
“Did Warren Jeffs ever tell you directly that you had to submit to Allen Steed sexually?”
I tried to explain but got cut off.
“Yes or no, Miss Wall.”
“No.”
“Did you meet with Mr. Jeffs after returning from Canada?”
I knew she thought that with her tidy outfit and commandeering speech she could intimidate me into mixing up my story. But I was smarter than that, and I wasn’t going to be rendered a fool on the stand. “I only spoke of one meeting with Warren Jeffs to the jury.”
“Memory fades over time, right, Miss Wall?” she badgered. “You would agree that you can’t remember every word in every meeting you’ve had with Warren Jeffs?”
“Ms. Isaacson,” I replied, being sure to keep my voice clear, even, and composed, “that was a very difficult time for me. I was a scared fourteen-year-old little girl.